


Pick Me Up

by Frostwells



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Oral Sex, Romance, Second Chances, Smut, Teacher/Student, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostwells/pseuds/Frostwells
Summary: He’s seen plenty of female workers before, both in bars and out. He’s been served drinks by many ladies. But he’s never seen a bartender that looks exactly like the woman he loved – the woman he had to let go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yay, another Oswinbourne fic. But modern AU. I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO OR VICTORIA  
> CLAIMER: I DO OWN ALL MY TIPSY-INDUCED GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES (yes i was slightly tipsy while writing this)
> 
> EDIT: So, I added a second chapter and the ratings definitely changed. Whoops.

He gently opened the door, the soft sounds of piano trills and the light clinking of glasses meeting his ears. It was quieter than he expected, but how would he know if he never once set foot in this dingy bar? He was just looking for a place to drown in his misery, to forget about today’s events, and this happened to be the one that was calling to him; a bar hidden from the bustling city.

He stepped inside, the chimes ringing as the door closed behind him. No one seemed to pay him any mind as he occupied a stool by the bar. He took off his suit jacket, and chucked it on the counter, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Double shot of whiskey, on the rocks,” he ordered to the bartender without looking up. 

He was glad the bartender did as he was told without question. He didn’t know if he had the patience or effort to form a conversation right now. It had been a long day.

He heard shuffling in front of him before the familiar clink of a glass placed before him reached his ears. He looked up, his hair disheveled, and reached for his drink. Before his fingers touched the cool glass, he froze, olive eyes staring widely at the bartender.

“Got something on my face?” she asked quizzically, arching an eyebrow.

He couldn’t say anything, finding his mouth suddenly dry. 

“You’re…” he trailed, unable to say the words.

“What? Never seen a girl bartender before, mate?” she teased, grinning, as she continued to wipe a glass with an old cloth.

No, he’s seen plenty of female workers before, both in bars and out. He’s been served drinks by many ladies. But he’s never seen a bartender that looks exactly like the woman he loved –the woman he had to let go so she could love another.

The bartender was the exact same height as Victoria, had the same sweet voice and the mischievous twinkle in their eyes whenever she teased him. Even with trained eyes, people could easily mistake her as the twin of Victoria. Just like he did.

But the woman in front of him (who was still staring at him strangely), has noticeably different features than the woman he loved. Her hair was cropped to her shoulders with blonde bleached at the ends. Victoria despised getting her hair cut, allowing her hair grow beyond her hips. Her eyes were a deep, hazel colour unlike Victoria’s deep sea blue orbs.

But the one thing that struck him about the bartender was not only her eyes, but the depths within him he saw. Soft lines creased around the shapes of her eyes, making her older than what she probably is. While they twinkled, he could see how tired they are, as if she’s seen too much horrors of the world.

Realizing that he was still gaping at her, he quickly snapped his mouth shut as he blinked rapidly.

“No, I – forgive me, Miss. That’s not the case,” he tried explaining, offering her a smile.

“You looked like you’ve seen a ghost,” she stated, her movements never faltering as she wiped the glass.

He chuckled, smiling sadly at his drink that has yet to be touched.

“In a way, I have.”

With that, he looked away, his lips quirking into a frown.

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but thought better against it. She knew better than to converse with customers that don’t want to. They may get the wrong idea. Her only job is to serve them drinks and pray that they won’t get drunk off their arses. But she’s usually good at detecting these type of things and know when to cut her customers off drinks.

“You remind me of someone that I loved,” he admitted sadly, finally taking a sip of his poison.

She regarded him with sympathy in her hazel eyes. Usually, lines like those are usually nothing more than sweet words trying to get her into bed. But as she regarded this man in front of her, looking like a puppy that lost its master, she believed him. That she indeed reminded him of someone that was once dear to him.

Feeling a tad sad for the older man, the woman wondered what she could do to lift his spirits without overstepping her boundaries much.

“Nice pick up line, mister,” the young woman said, her voice light. He snapped his head up, ready to defend his honour, saying that he was not, in any way, trying to pick this girl up, no matter how much she looked like Victoria. But his words died in his throat as he saw her smiling, teeth and all.

“Oh, you’re teasing me…” he muttered, begrudgingly smiling at her.

“If you had to say that out loud, you must have a poor sense of humour,” she chuckled, placing the clean cup on a rack before picking up another glass and wiping it absentmindedly.

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. For the first time in a while, he heard himself laugh that wasn’t without humour. All thanks to this bartender.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Isn’t it gentlemanly if you introduce yourself first?” she replied, her lips quirking.

He laughed again, reaching a hand out towards him. “William Melbourne, Miss…”

She took his large hand in her much smaller ones, slightly shaking it. “Oswald. Clara Oswald. But you can call me Clara, if you’d like.”

He reveled the feeling of her smooth, small hands in his own. Although tiny, she had a firm grip.

“Miss Clara Oswald,” he said, trying the name off his lips before bringing her hand to lips to the back of his lips, kissing it. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She felt the warmth of hips lips touch her cool skin, fighting the instant to rudely retract her hand. She was unused to physical touch after a long time. Clara’s last boyfriend, who was significantly older than her, disliked any sort of physical intimacy. That included kissing, hugging, and even holding hands. She, on the other hand, was an emotional woman who craved intimacy but the man she loved could not provide that for her. So, she left him.

But as Clara glanced down at the man who was placing a lingering kiss on her hand, she could see he, too, was also the type of person who liked any sort of physical affection. But his grey-olive eyes says otherwise.

_He’s broken as well._

Releasing her hand, Melbourne sat upright in his stool and downed the rest of the whiskey in one shot, feeling the familiar burn running down his throat into the pit of his stomach.

Turning around to examine the shelf filled with various bottles of alcohol, she said nonchalantly, “Well, you’re much more better looking than in the books.”

She heard him splutter behind her. “Excuse me?”

“Lord William Melbourne, Prime Minister and advisor to Queen Victoria,” she stated while turning back around to face him, her eyes dancing with mirth. “As far as I can tell, you are not a fat, old man like the history books depict you to be.”

Clara’s face suddenly turned serious and tilted her head, as if she was inspecting his face.

“Quite handsome, really.”

Melbourne smiled and adverted his gaze, feeling rather flattered. If he’d didn’t know any better, he’d say Clara was flirting with him, but an old man such as himself should not get his hopes up.

But that doesn’t mean he can indulge her just a little bit.

He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes challenging hers.

“I also find no joy in spanking in little girls’ bottoms.”

Clara stared at him, her large, brown eyes widening in shock as she took a moment to process what Melbourne just said. Wondering if he went a bit far with the comment, he heard her laugh; a full blown laugh, with her clutching her stomach. The other customers turned to glare at them for interrupting their peaceful evening, but neither seemed to care.

Calming down, she wordlessly took his empty glass and left to refill it, stilling smiling broadly. Melbourne found that look on her quite endearing and wondered if she smiled like that often. He suddenly had the desire to know everything about Clara; what was she like before they met, what were her likes and dislikes, any past relationships.

Melbourne didn’t know why he felt so drawn to the woman who bore the same face as the girl who broke his heart.

She returned with his glass, filled with the same liquid he ordered previously and placed it in front of him.

“Merci,” he thanked her, feeling the ice cubes cool his lips and the whiskey burning his throat once more.

“De rien,” she replied, shrugging off the questioning look he shot her. “What? I was taught some basic French as a child.”

He didn’t say anything as he watched her make drinks for other customers. It seems she’s quite skilled as it took her no time to make them. That made Melbourne wonder how a bright, young woman is stuck in a dingy bar that was in the hole of a wall in the empty streets of London.

“So, what is a bright, gorgeous woman, such as yourself, doing in a rundown place like this?” he asked.

After placing a drink in front of a woman at the end of the bar she returned, her eyebrows raised in skepticism. “Is this another one of your pickup lines, Mr. Melbourne?” she asked.

He looked at her in confusion, wondering why she would ask such a thing. He replayed what he said in his head until he looked apologetic.

“Apologies, Miss Oswald. I didn’t mean for it to sound anything less than gentlemanly,” he apologized.

Clara gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Mr. Melbourne. I’m just joking.”

She turned away to wash the dirty cups piling up in her sink, willing to answer his question.

“Truth is, I just wanted to get away from the stresses of life. I believe that’s the reason why one goes to a bar, no?” Melbourne nodded in affirmation.

Before he could ask her to elaborate, she beat him to it.

“So what brings you to this _dingy bar,_ Mr. Melbourne?”

He adverted his gaze, wondering if he should tell her. It had been hard for him, living through today’s events, let alone verbally retelling it. But as he could see Clara’s questioning gaze, he found himself wanting to confide in her with his heartbreak. So he did.

“My friend got married today,” he said, smiling weakly as his thumb stroked the glass.

Clara looked surprised. “Congratulations,” she said happily before asking hesitantly when he didn’t smile, “That is something to be congratulated for, right?” Melbourne let out a chuckle.

“That is something to be congratulated for, yes,” he replied, amused at her reaction before looking away. “But my friend is also someone whom I loved with all my heart.”

It was clichéd but it was true. After his deceased wife and son, Melbourne believed he could never love again. But Victoria came into his life as his student; his light in his otherwise, dreary life. He mentored her and found himself falling in love with her.

A girl who was only eighteen while he was nearing his fifties.

He’d heard the whispers of the people every time he walked by her side. He had seen the disapproving looks of others whenever Victoria beamed up at him.

 _He’s old enough to be her father,_ they’d say. Melbourne even remembered her being teased, calling her, _Mrs. Melbourne,_ as if that name was supposed to be offensive. The young girl, however, just took it as a compliment, indeed wishing to be his wife.

Melbourne was foolish to even think he had a shot of happiness once more with Victoria. He was a damn fool thinking he had forever with this young girl. But in the end, he’d only hurt her.

Victoria’s family, her mother and boyfriend, had requested he’d leave their child alone. Otherwise, they would have to report him to administration and force him to resign as a teacher. He rejected them at first, saying it would have to be Victoria to cast him away, but they told him she is to married to someone her own age quite soon. The marriage was already arranged. It broke his heart.

She had caught him after class, in the garden of their school, confessing her love. Melbourne wanted nothing more to kiss her, tell her that he loves her too. But he had to think of her future of his love. She will not go far, marrying an old man such as him. So he did the only thing he could.

He broke both their hearts.

She ran away crying while her parents approached him the next day, grinning, and giving him money as compensation for his _hard work_. He angrily flung the money back at their face, saying that no amount of money can replace the hurt he inflicted on Victoria.

They remained as civilized friends, only talking in the accompaniment of one of her maids or her parents themselves.

_Like all teenagers, their heads could be easily turned._

Victoria fell in love with her husband-to-be, a boy that goes by the name of Al. She soon forgot about the love she once had for Melbourne as she enthusiastically announced their marriage after she finishes high school.

He had attended her wedding this afternoon, feeling his heart shatter as she sealed her vow to Al with a kiss. He will never love again.

“Mr. Melbourne?”

He snapped out of his thoughts as his eyes fixed on Victoria’s doppelganger. She regarded with him with worry in her hazel eyes. His chest ached realizing the woman in front of him was not Victoria but rather, Clara.

_Brown eyes, not blue._

“Sorry,” he smiled apologetically, sitting up straight after realizing he was slouching.

“It’s alright,” she replied softly, not willing to push him. She could see that whatever happened at his friend’s wedding, deeply affected him emotionally. She placed a reassuring hand on top of his and he gratefully took it, squeezing it.

Melbourne watched as Clara’s chocolate eyes displayed a varied ranged of emotions as he told her his history with Victoria; anger, empathy, humour, anger.

She was silent for a while when he finished, letting his experience sink in her head. She refilled his drink, which he appreciated.

“With names like you guys, it’s no surprise that things didn’t go well.” Clara stated matter-of-factly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“C’mon! Your life? It’s exactly like in the history books!” she exclaimed in disbelief, her hands waving animatedly in the air. “The Queen of England was in love with her Prime Minister and vice versa but she fell in love with Prince Albert!” She leaned forward on the dark, cool counter, her face close to his. “You’re life was rigged from the start, _Lord M.”_

With that, she withdrew to serve new customers while Melbourne was left to ponder what she said. He could see why she made that connection, his life with the royals that lived in the mid eighteen-hundreds. Same names, same experiences. He suddenly found himself grinning, unable to find a reasonable rebuttal to Clara’s theory.

“You are quite the impossible girl, Miss Oswald,” he laughed, deep and rich.

“So I’ve been told,” she winked while pouring a drink.

Mere hours ago, his heart was broken, beyond repair. He believed he would have no reason to smile once Victoria exchanged her vows with her husband. But he here was, smiling, laughing, and enjoying himself in a rundown bar with the bartender who was the mirror image of Victoria.

Clara Oswald. The impossible girl who made him believe things would actually be alright.

Before he could stop himself, Melbourne found himself asking, “Would you mind accompanying me to dinner sometime, Miss Oswald?”

She laughed. “Now, this is most definitely a pick up line,” she teased, making him blush.

“Is that a no, then?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious and a tad disappointed.

She was quiet for a while, pretending to be busy, tending to the cash register and drinks, ignoring him. Feeling rejected, he took his jacket and headed towards the exit before he heard her call him out.

He turned back around to see her grinning, resting her head on her hands that were propped up on her elbows.

“I’m working close again tomorrow.”

“And?” he asked, wondering where the conversation was going.

She unlatched the end of the counter and walked towards him, placing her hand in his own while handing him a piece of paper napkin. Skeptically, he opened the soft napkin. In her neat writing, it read,

_Pick me up Friday night, 7:00pm._

_Here’s my number, and address. Don’t be late._

_Clara xo_

He looked up at her grinning face, still a bit surprised that she accepted his offer. Perhaps, it was no mistake that he was drawn to this dingy bar. While Melbourne no longer believed in such foolish things like fate and destiny, maybe there was he was brought to Clara for a reason.

Smiling, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheeks, giving his response.

“Yes, ma’am.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter (albeit I was tipsy borderline drunk). Many people requested more to this story, so viola, I give you oswinbourne smut. Also, I was a bartender myself for a while so I went more in depth with Clara's job. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO OR VICTORIA  
> CLAIMER: I DO OWN MY DRUNK-INDUCED GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES

At the street corner, he stops and stares at the poorly lit alley way, the putrid smell of urine and trash filling his senses. He grimaces as he stares up at the dusky sky – not quite at the peak of twilight, baring a brownish hue to it – and wishes he were elsewhere.

He’s tired of the typical nine to five, teaching teenagers that show no interests of learning. It didn’t help that his former love would appear out of thin air, her husband trailing not that far behind. Victoria would claim that she’s helping the students even though she was one of them a few months prior. But in every corridor he would turn, she would be there, smiling, torturing him. It was nothing but a nightmare.

Until he met her.

Clara Oswald, the impossible girl.

William Melbourne was convinced that she was not entirely human – rather, perhaps a succubus, for he had never felt intense desire towards a bartender in a rundown tavern. While Clara looked exactly like Victoria, he felt that her face was not the reason he was drawn towards her.

The moment his olive eyes rested upon her, the crack of desire welted through him, as if he had been struck with a belt. And she teased him with her voice and her cheshire-like smile. The young woman knew she had him in her hands.

Quite literally.

Melbourne kept his promise and picked Clara up at her flat on that Friday without delay. He didn’t want to disappoint the lady. His heart thudded in his chest at the mere sight of her, all thoughts of Victoria vanished from his mind. Only Clara filled his heart and mind that night.

He had been nothing but a gentlemen throughout the evening and the bartender clearly enjoyed herself. She rewarded him by allowing Melbourne to escort her back to her flat and to her room, which she pleasured him all night. He could’ve swore that Clara’s hazel eyes glowed in the darkness, like a cat. It was ironic considering he was mewling like one as she pleasured him inside her sinful mouth.

Before he knew it, the older man wanted more. He wanted Clara exclusively to himself and he told her this. She rejected him politely, saying this was nothing but a one night thing for her. She couldn’t afford to be in a relationship. She _didn’t_ want to be in a relationship. Melbourne respected her wishes and promptly left her flat, trying to hide his apparent disappointment.

It had been three months since then.

The teacher had receive no calls or texts from Clara, despite leaving his number on her nightstand before he left. That was to be expected considering the young brunette made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing more with him. Not even has friends.

“I don’t become friends with people whom I shagged,” she stated as she fixed herself up. “And I don’t shag my friends. Those are my two rules in life.”

It was understandable, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Melbourne hated to admit it, but he missed her.

That’s why, without realizing it, he found himself in the back alley in front of the familiar tavern, his hand stretched out, as if he was going to push the door open. Melbourne was tempted to push the door and walk inside. But he had promised himself to respect Clara’s wishes.

If only he wasn’t filled with pain and sadness the day Victoria had gotten married. Then he wouldn’t have met Clara and act like a kicked puppy, stilling willing to obey its master.

Giving in to his desires, Melbourne pushed the glass door forward, hearing the familiar chimes above and glasses faintly clicking in the background. His eyes scanned the room, which was barely occupied by any patrons. The dim lighting did not help his poor eyesight as he walked inside. Soft jazz music could be heard playing from the overhead stereos. He took a deep breath, the smell of cheap alcohol and tobacco filled his nostrils.   

He placed his coat on the black counter and took his spot on the stool like he had done the first time they’d met. Clara was nowhere in sight and Melbourne wondered if she were working today. Even though a few minutes had passed, to the older man, it felt like hours until he heard the familiar sound of heels clacking on the floor behind him.

If Clara looked surprised to see Melbourne, she didn’t show it.

She had looked as beautiful as she did all those months ago. Her chestnut hair was done up in a neat bun, her petite body laced with a form-fitting, black dress that rested on her thighs. He couldn’t see what colour or kind of shoes she wore, but Melbourne guessed heels since she looked significantly taller. Her makeup accented her face well, making the shape of it seem smaller while she highlighted her hazel eyes, cute nose and red lipstick ghosting her full lips.

As Clara’s hazel eyes locked with Melbourne’s olive ones, he could feel the same crackle of electricity run course throughout his body. He could tell she felt the same thing by the smolder in her smoky eyes. 

“Melbourne,” she greeted huskily as she made her way around the bar so she could face him.

“Miss Oswald,” he nodded, his voice just as gravelly. Not once did his eyes leave hers, soaking up the very look of her as if he were a starved man. She smirked, pleased at the older man’s reaction.

The young woman slid Melbourne a corked coaster, signalling him to place his order. He wanted nothing more than to tell Clara that all he wishes to drink is her. But that would be too rude and forward of him. He would never say such a thing. At least, in public where prying ears might accidentally hear something that is meant for the privacy of two.

Instead, he ordered a whiskey, neat. Clara gave him a knowing look, as if she’s heard what he said in his mind. The professor felt the tip of his ears burn under her teasing eyes. He felt himself breathe out a sigh of relief when she busied herself in fixing his drink. Less than half a minute later, she placed the glass on his coaster.

Melbourne murmured his thanks, not willing to meet her eyes just quite yet, still feeling embarrassed at the thought of Clara hearing his thoughts, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

He is jolted out of his thoughts when Clara somehow managed to slip herself onto the bar stool beside him, a drink in hand.

“Should you be drinking on the job?” he asked, slightly concerned.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at him in slight disbelief before shrugging her shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m sleeping with the boss.”

The professor stared at her with clear mortification on his face. It took Clara a moment to look serious before bursting out in peals of laughter. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw locking, before scoffing, “You’re teasing me. Again.”

She looked at his irritated expression before laughing harder, earning looks of distain from the other customers.

“I couldn’t help it!” she laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “You make the most adorable face when you’re shocked.”

Melbourne huffed as he sipped his whiskey, pretending to be upset, but in reality, he’s happy that he made her laugh. He missed that sound. And he liked the feeling of her warm hand on his shoulder.

“What are you drinking?” He jutted his chin towards the long-drink glass in her hand. She looked at her glass then back to him and raised it, slightly rattling it, the sound of the ice clinking in her hand.

“ _Cuba Libre,”_ Clara said, before placing the drink down with a soft _clink._ “It’s basically rum and coca cola.”

He hummed, slightly wishing he ordered her drink instead of his bland whiskey. Seeing him eyeing her drink, she got up and went behind the bar.

“What are you doing?”

“Working.”

He watched her as she washed her hand before getting all the necessary ingredients. Before she could start, Melbourne found himself blurting out, “Tell me the steps.”

She paused and stared at him quizzically. “Sorry?”

He looked at her sheepishly. “I’d like to know how to make it, for future references,” he lied. “So, can you tell me how to make it? Step by step?”

She stared at him skeptically but said nothing more, her expression turning serious as she finished preparing the necessary drinks.

“First, you need to know what kind of glass you are serving your drink in,” she gestured towards the glass case showcasing various amount of glasses and cups. “Since I’m making a _cuba libre,_ I’m gonna use a long-drink glass.” Clara raised the glass high enough for him to see.

“What’s the difference between the glasses?”

“Each drink has their own glass. For example, you’re not gonna serve someone wine in a shot glass, are you?”

“Oh, gods no,” he said, slightly affronted.

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, pointing a finger at him, obviously excited. “There’s logic behind serving drinks! The long-drink glass is meant for holding large volume of cocktails, which is the cuba libre.”

Melbourne couldn’t help but quirk a smile at her enthusiasm, her hazel eyes brightening as she taught him the purpose each cup held. He watched as she pulled out two large bottles of alcohol.

“First we need is two ounces of rum,” Clara shook the two bottles. “Barcadi Superior or Havana Club? Pick your poison.”

Melbourne couldn’t care less about which drink but he couldn’t help but smile widely at her excitement. It’s obviously clear that she was having fun playing teacher, and he, the student. Admittedly, he found himself having fun as well.

“Um, the Barcadi Superior,” he said, flipping his right hand over to gesture towards the bottle. Clara turned around to the shelf and placed the neglected drink back onto the shelf.

“ _White aged rum_ ,” the bartender hummed in approval, giving Melbourne a wink over her shoulder. “I knew there’s a reason why I liked you.”

The professor looked surprised at her statement, letting out a small laugh before looking away shyly. He felt his cheeks warm at her compliment, even though he was well aware that she didn’t mean much by it; she was just teasing him, like she always does.

He heard a slight hiss coming in front of him as Clara unscrewed the cap from the Coca Cola bottle. “You need about three point five ounces of this,” she stated, her brows furrowing in concentration as she quickly poured the drink. With expertise and finesse, she stopped the flow of the sugary liquid with her thumb before resealing it for future usages.

Clara placed it back in the refrigerator before taking out a whole lime fruit. She took out a chopping board and sliced a few wedges of lime before squeezing some of its juices into the glass. “One ounce of lime into the drink,” she murmured, completely focused on her task, unconsciously biting her lip.

A jolt of desire was sent towards the nether regions of his body as the sight of Clara biting her ruby lips. Oh, how much he missed feeling her body against his, biting her lips with his teeth to silence her screams in the throes of pleasure.

Not knowing what possessed him, he leaned over the counter and pulled her bottom lip free from her teeth before quickly kissing her. As quick as it came, he quickly pulled away, frozen in midair, unsure of what happened. Melbourne felt a stinging sensation in his hands and she slapped his hands away, glaring at him.

“Never, _never,_ bother a bartender while they are fixing drinks!” Clara scolded, using her teacher’s voice. He shrank bank in his seat. “Alcohol is like medicine; one slip of the hand of over dosage, and you’re screwed.”

“I…” he trailed, lost for words, before trying again. “I…I- forgive me, Miss Oswald. I’m not quite sure what possessed me to do such a thing.”

“It’s not like you, Mr. Melbourne.”

“Indeed, it is not.”

The bartender raised a questioning eyebrow. “I trust you won’t do it again?” 

“You have my word,” he promised.

She held her expression before diverting her attention toward the drink. “You’re damn lucky I only have the garnishes left,” she grumbled under her breath.

Clara stirred the drink a couple of times with an unfamiliar looking spoon before taking a slice of lime and pushing it on the rim of the glass. Satisfied with her work, she placed it on the counter beside his now empty whiskey glass.

"On the house."

He brought the frosted cup to his lips, the cool liquid of the ice meeting his warm lips. It wasn’t what Melbourne expected. The sweetness of the lime heightened the taste of the aged rum but burn he anticipated for was practically non-existent as it was mellowed out by the fizz of the cola.

In other words, Melbourne loved it.

He took his time savouring each sip as he watched Clara fix herself another drink. He noticed that she worked infinitely faster and efficiently as opposed to her slow, calculated steps when she was teaching him. Transfixed, he observed her with ease as she made her way around through the bar, making her own drink while still keeping up with the new orders of customers. In a way, Melbourne is slightly envious of her multi-task talent.

In less than three minutes, she managed to serve two customers and herself. He looked at her with awe being shown in his green eyes.

“What?” she asked, seeing the strange look on his face once seated back by his side.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but thought against it and quickly shut it.

“Should you really being drinking on the job?” he asked once more.

She shrugged. “I own the place. Plus, I’m off duty starting,” Clara looked up the analog clock that hung on the wall, watching it strike eight o’clock, “Now.”

Melbourne almost choked on his drink when she said she owned this bar. Thinking back to their previous conversation to when they first met, he had called this place, _dingy_ and _run down._ He wondered if his words back then had hurt her. After all, by the way she clearly enjoys her work, this bar must be her pride and joy. Melbourne winced. Perhaps he should apologize to her later.

Later came sooner than expected. The pair were now intoxicated with their drinks, unaware that it’s almost close to midnight. Melbourne learned many things about Clara just as she learned many things about him. It was just as if they were meeting again for the first time. It was refreshing.

Before Clara became a bartender, she was a schoolteacher at a prestigious institute, Coal Hill Secondary School. She loved teaching English and Literature to young minds, finding the joy of watching them grow. She wished for no other job.

Until, _that_ accident. 

Clara mentioned her last boyfriend, John Smith, who was a custodial at their school. She loved him unconditionally, even with the immense age difference; he being in his mid fifties and Clara nearing her thirties. She knew the feeling was mutual. However, he had gotten into a horrible car accident, altering his brain – his personality. Gone was the sweet, affectionate boyfriend Clara once adored.

John became cold, calculated, devoid of any positive emotions and hated any sort of physical touch. It seemed like the mere touch of Clara’s skin grazing his own would burn him. It broke Clara’s heart.

Their relationship was constantly unstable – always on and off. Clara started seeing the maths teacher at her school, Danny Pink, to ease the pain in her heart. He was kind, sweet, everything John no longer was.

John hated him.

Even with his personality change, he thought Clara belonged to him. After all, the man she loved was the same person as him; just a little bit different. But he hated how Clara refused see that. So he harassed Danny, making fun of his profession, constantly belittling him. A man like him did not deserve Clara.

One day, John’s harassment had gotten too far. He had drove him to his death. Danny was on his way to pick up Clara on a date and John followed him home. They argued on the street and when Danny focused his anger and attention on John, he was gone.

He was dead. John Smith, Clara’s one true love, killed Danny.

Danny wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and walked a red light. John, knowing what was happening, didn’t stop him. He didn’t call him out, didn’t pull him back to the curb. He just let Danny walk. And then he was hit by a car.

Clara never forgave John.

She screamed at him, hit him, cursed him, everything. She realized she loved a monster who only lived to bring destruction. Everyone around him died and Clara was not about to be the next victim.

So, Clara packed everything up and left in the dead of the night.

She couldn’t return to work where Danny and John were. It was too painful. So she moved out, used all her savings to drown her sorrows in making a bar. Even confiding this to Melbourne, he could see the raw pain in her glassy, hazel eyes.

And that’s when she met Melbourne.

From the moment she laid eyes on him, she felt in a way, they were kindred spirits; both emotionally damaged from someone they previously loved. Maybe, that’s why she opened up to him. She could relate to him. The pain in his beautiful eyes were too intense and Clara saw herself in him.

They both needed someone and they offered themselves up. But now, they don’t know what they are to each other.

_Friends? Lovers? Friends with Benefits?_

Maybe they’ll leave that up to time and fate.

After a couple of topic changes later, the mood was back to its light bantering and a bit of flirtatiousness. Clara and Melbourne were now drunk off the sweet air of the mood, finding themselves without a care in the world.

As the ice melts in their drinks, their inhibitions and rules seem to do the same.

Clara would never admit it out loud, but she slowly finds herself falling for this older man. The kind, gentlemanly, chivalrous, professor whose heart has been broken by a girl more than half his age. That made Clara want to laugh and cry for him at the same time. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol she was feeling.

He could relate. Melbourne would like nothing more than to kiss her again. After trusting enough to tell him something of her past, he wishes to shield her and protect her from this John Smith bastard. But can he be the man she truly longs for? The man of her desires?

He stares hard as his drink as he stirs it with his finger. “Tell me, Clara,” he starts, losing all forms of formality with her, “In your destiny, what number am I?”

She grins as she leans close to him, their faces inches apart. “You’re one in a million, _Lord M_ ,” she giggles before smashing her lips against his mouth. He kisses back, his tongue tasting the slight salt of her tears and the alcohol. It was simply intoxicating.

In the back of his mind, Melbourne could help but think if she uses that line all the time but he found himself not caring in the slightest. Right now, she is here in his arms. Clara Oswald is here snogging him.

Maybe tonight, he will allow her to dominate him again. To make her happy. He wants nothing more than to see her smile. Just for tonight, he will allow Clara to control him with her love. It was just her love alone that made him feel less cynical and thaw his cold outlook about what love truly is. They will give each other the heat the both need and desperately crave.

He soundly pulls away from her addictive lips, her brown eyes hooded with lust. Her cheeks were warm and rosy. She seemed to get warmer every time Melbourne pressed his lips against her and explored her mouth. She sighed so gently, and warmth spread through his chest like wildfire.

William Melbourne is so far gone, he can no longer be led astray. He just can no longer stay away from this woman. Tonight, let them loosen up and unwind, bare themselves naked to each other once more.

This time, Clara pulled away from him leaning back in her seat. She grabbed her drink and downed the remaining contents. She laced her hands with his much larger ones.

“The night’s still young,” she stated softly, her brown eyes glinting, “So, what’ll it be?”

Melbourne immediately knew Clara was not referring to ordering a drink. After taking the tine at staring at her expressive eyes, he answered, “I like it strong.”

They waste no time getting to Clara’s flat, leaving trails of clothing in their wake as he maneuvers her to her bedroom. In this room, their desires seem to match and come together. Clara wants nothing more than to forget that time exists and indulge her lust and desires with Melbourne.

The young brunette quickly divests him of his clothing, still leaving her completely covered, including her heels. He reaches a hand out to touch her but she slaps it away, like she had done earlier tonight.

“You’ve been a bad boy tonight, Mr. Melbourne,” she tsked, circling around the naked, older man as if he were a lamb to be eaten. “Distracting me from my work, seducing me…”

“Yes.”

“Yes, _what?”_

“Yes, ma’am.” That was all he said, understanding Clara’s intentions. And he felt himself harden.

“Are you aware of what’s going to happen next?” she asked, using her teacher’s voice once again. Melbourne loved it.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re going to punish me, ma’am,” he replied, lacing his fingers in front of him and standing up tall, like a soldier.

“Indeed,” Clara beckoned Melbourne to kneel before her and cupped his stubble cheeks in her small hand, forcing his olive eyes to be trained on her. “And since you’ve been forthcoming so far this evening, I’ll even permit you to select your own punishment. Anything you like.”

It took him a moment of silence before saying, “I wish to be… slapped, ma’am.”

Clara looked at him in surprise. She expected him to say _spank_ but not _slapped._

 _It must have something to do with what happened between him and that Victoria girl,_ Clara mused. _Must’ve felt like he had done something wrong._

Clara’s blood suddenly ran cold.

Melbourne looked up to see Clara frozen in place, her eyes wide. “Ma’am?” he called out hesitantly.

“Melbourne…” she began, her voice quavering. “What exactly are we?”

He looked confused. "Ma’am, I’m afraid I don’t understand…” 

Her voice turned harsh. “I know I look exactly like Victoria! But I will not be a replacement for some ghost of her!”

Melbourne quickly got off his knees and tugged her body into his. How did she even get the idea that he saw her as Victoria? In her presence, he rarely thought about her. If he did, it was because he and Clara were actually talking about her. But Victoria can never hope to compare to Clara. Not even close. So he whispered everything he wanted to say, hoping to reassure her.

Clara didn’t exactly cry in his arms, but he heard the anguish in her voice at the thought of him not seeing her as the person she is. No, Melbourne could never see Alexandrina Victoria as beautiful, kind, and perfect as Clara Oswald. Victoria acted like she was perfect. Clara didn’t need to. She was already perfect with all her imperfections.

It was well after two in the morning when Clara calmed down. Melbourne tenderly wiped her tears away from his cheeks before giving her a tender kiss.

“Do you still want to…?” he trailed, gesturing to the two of them.

“I want you to love me, Melbourne,” she said determinedly. He only nodded.

With care, he spun her body around so her back was presented to him. He gently pulled the zipper off her dress downwards, kissing every inch of exposed skin. Clara’s skin felt like it was burning every time he pressed his lips against her. He pulled down her panties as well, never leaving a spot unkissed.

He knelt before her, basking in her newfound nakedness, his olive eyes roaming her petit body appreciatively. She reached a hand to him and he took it, pressing a kiss on the back of her hand before pulling himself up. He towered over her, his eyes never leaving hers. He showered her face with feathered kisses, adoring her. Clara let out a small giggle, feeling slightly ticklish.

His lips finally locked with hers, consuming her in the intensity of his kiss. _Dear gods, he’s one hell of a good kisser,_ she hazily thought, leaving Clara dizzy before he trailed his lips down her throat. Stopping to suck at her pulse point, his hand roamed, reaching between her legs, cupping her hairless mound. The older man let out a sound of appreciation, the reverberation from his mouth making Clara shiver. He gently nipped at the tender skin before shoving a finger in her wet heat.

“Already so wet for me, Clara,” he murmured in awe, keeping a steady pace of pumping his fingers out of her. She let out a gasp as his mouth latched onto her nipple, rolling it in between his teeth. The professor guided the young woman backwards until the bed hit the back of her knees and toppled over, Melbourne’s lips never leaving hers.

“Melbourne, please. I’m ready!” she mewled as he switched nipples, his free hand giving attention to the neglected breast. He released her with a pop.

The professor settled himself between Clara’s thighs, pausing to lock eyes with her. “Are you sure?”

She let out a groan as frustration as she dug her heels into his back, urging him to continue. He chuckled at her wanton display but he pushed into her fully. She let out a choked sob as she tried to accommodate for his girth. After a moment, he pulled back out and re-entered at the same speed.

Melbourne began to suck on her neck as his thrusts continued at a grueling pace. Clara vaguely wondered if he was going to leave a hickey.

It seemed he read her mind. “You’re not allowed to cover this up. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

His words, mixed with the way he was fucking her caused Clara to whimper with need. She found herself climbing towards her orgasm and he was getting her there faster than anyone else slept with. Not even John and she thought he was a sex on a stick.

The professor’s hand that had been rubbing her nipple switched to press against her clit. Melbourne seemed to be close as well, his hips finding their rhythm as he pounded Clara into the bed.

“Please! Let me come!” she begged, her voice high pitched.

He smirked fully, a crooked grin as he took in her flush face and gritted teeth as Clara fought off her orgasm. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Come for me, Clara.”

His permission hurled Clara towards her climax, her arms and legs holding onto him, as if he were her life support. His own orgasm followed instantly, his hips twitching as he moaned the young woman’s name. Spent, he pulled out and flopped down onto the bed next to her.

Trying to regain control of their breathing, Melbourne’s hand found hers and laced her fingers with his in a gesture that meant more to her than it probably should.

The silence dragged on, the air no longer filled with ragged breathing. Melbourne wondered if this was his cue to leave. He didn’t want to. He never wants to leave Clara again. But it’ll be quite the embarrassment if he didn’t ask and have her kick him out. Again.

“Should I–?”

Clara didn’t allow him to finish his question before wrapping her arms around him. “No, please stay.” Throwing her blanket over him, she pulled him closer, nuzzling into his neck.

Melbourne’s mind was spinning with thoughts of what would happen now. Was she exclusively his? Or was it out of curtesy to let him stay because of the hour?

His snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Clara murmur, “You want to know what we are?”

“Yes.” She reached a hand out to him and ran her hand through his messy hair.

“We’re mixed together, like a cocktail.” Her hazel eyes danced with mirth when she saw his confused look at her analogy. She kissed him softly. “Perfectly.”

It took a moment for Melbourne to understand what she meant before bursting out in laughter.

“Now, that sounds like you’re trying to pick me up, Clara,” he teased, recalling the first time she accused him of hitting on her at her work all those months ago.

“We’re picking each other up, Melbourne,” she answered, her voice turning serious. “We’re helping each other.”

His arm tightened around her with her response. “Indeed, we are Miss Oswald.”

X

_Who ever knew I'd come across such a place_

_Hidden within daily life, up 'til now so mundane._

_In this spot, somehow our burning passion and desires_

_Seem to match and come together._

_As we longingly gaze into each other's eyes, it feels like_

_There's a cocktail of emotions brewing inside._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's it for this story! Let me know what you think! Comments and Kudos are much appreciated, as usual!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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